


Trepidation and Realizations

by EmmaFoxglove



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Complete, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, I had to get this out of my system, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Neck Kissing, Nervousness, Sex, Sweet/Hot, Undressing, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 00:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17888093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaFoxglove/pseuds/EmmaFoxglove
Summary: Elizabeth Bennet is happily engaged to her beloved Mr Darcy. But after an unexpected kiss, she realizes that she might not be as prepared for married life as she had previously thought.





	1. Kisses and Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Ever find yourself scribbling smut in the margins of your "novel ideas" notebook? That is the origin and entire essence of this piece. It wouldn't go away so I figured I'd flesh it out and share it with you guys.

Elizabeth stood beneath the ash tree, waiting for them. She was a quartermile down the road from Longbourne, hoping to meet the gentlemen before they reached her home and vexing relations. She’d only been engaged to Mr Darcy some three weeks, and already her nerves were ragged from the constant friction between he and her mother. Mrs Bennett had been on her best behavior around him, and he had borne with her silliness with a forbearance that amazed Elizabeth, but still she dreaded the awkwardness. 

She dawdled under the tree for some quarter of an hour before she heard the horses approaching. The two riders rounded the corner and seemed astonished to see her standing there. They pulled up beside her. 

“Why, Lizzy!” cried Mr Bingley. “Surprising to find you here. Is Jane with you?” 

“I’m alone,” she replied, looking past him toward his companion. Mr Darcy just tilted his head at her curiously. “I wanted to come meet you,” she told him. 

“I’ll leave you to it then,” said Bingley. “I’ll see you both at dinner.” He gave her a slight bow before continuing on. 

Darcy watched him go around the bend before dismounting. “Is something the matter?” he asked. 

She came forward and touched his arm. “Does something have to be the matter for me to seek you out? Perhaps I just wanted to keep you to myself today.” She took his arm, smiling up at him. 

He returned the smile. “I won’t argue with that.” 

They changed directions and began walking away from Longbourne, arm in arm, Mr Darcy leading his horse by the reins. This was their favorite thing to do, wandering around the countryside, lost to everything but their own conversation. After several hours they looked at the sky and decided it was best they head back. 

“Your family will wonder what has become of you,” he told her. 

“I’m sure they’ll think you’ve thrown me across your horse and spirited me away. That’s seems rather in your character after all.” 

“I hope they wouldn’t permit you to marry such a miscreant.” 

“I will marry whomever I wish to marry, Mr Darcy.” 

He looked down at her and the expression on his face made her flustered. “It still seems like a dream that you said yes to me,” he told her. 

Elizabeth shook off a little of her emotion and laughed. “Do your dreams usually last this long? It’s been weeks, sir.” 

“It is more believable that I should be having a long dream than that the marvelous Elizabeth Bennet should be my bride.” He came to a halt, drawing her up short.They were still some half mile from home, and they were the only souls in sight. Mr Darcy turned toward her with such an intent look on his face that it gave Elizabeth pause.

“Elizabeth,” he murmured, staring at her. “There is something that I would like to try, if you will allow it.”

She gazed up at him. “What is it?” she asked. Her voice was so quiet that she had to clear her throat and repeat the question. 

Instead of answering, Mr Darcy took a step nearer to her, until she was forced to lean her head back to see him. His free hand came up, and he brushed his knuckles down her cheek with the lightest of touches. Elizabeth’s breathing hitched. She had a sudden realization where he was taking this and shivered in anticipation. 

Mr Darcy gazed down at her, his fingers skimming along her jaw and tucking under her chin, tilting it up a little more. 

They stood there for a moment, looking into each other’s faces as the dusk settled around them. His eyes swept back and forth across her features. Elizabeth stared back at him bravely but her pulse thrummed in her ears and she wished he would do something, anything. 

“Mr Darcy?” she murmured. 

Her voice seemed to shake him out of his preoccupation. “I’d like to kiss you, Elizabeth,” he told her. He leaned a little lower, until their foreheads and noses were nearly touching. She could feel the warmth of his skin and his scent he was so near to her. “May I?”

“Yes.”

Elizabeth Bennet had always wondered what it would be like, kissing someone. She’d read about kisses in novels, but she’d always wondered if two people’s lips touching could really be as idyllic as the poets claimed. When Mr Darcy’s lips pressed against hers, she owned that is was not like the poems. There was no supernatural experience, no rapturous opening of the heavens. Instead, what she felt was entirely corporeal, the give of tender flesh, the humidity of warm breath, the scent of skin and soap and dusk. Mr Darcy cupped her face between his hands, drawing her nearer to him. Elizabeth trembled and tentatively tried replicating the way his lips moved. 

The kiss lasted only a moment or two and then he drew back. He was beaming. She flushed and stepped away from him, her heart galloping. She’d enjoyed it, but the kiss had stirred up something in her that she had not been prepared to face and she fidgeted, not entirely certain how to behave around him. 

“Are you all right?” he wondered. 

Not daring to look up at him, she only nodded. From the corner of her eye she saw him shift his weight.

“Did I behave wrongly? I apologize if I—”

“Please,” she begged, her embarrassment increasing as he misunderstood. “Do not distress yourself. I— What I mean to say is that I—I—” she flushed, at a loss how to explain that her embarrassment did not stem from him. She was just embarrassed at the intense sensations she’d experienced during that tiny kiss. While he’d been kissing her, she’d had the revelation that there were so many aspects of being in love, and one was this: physical intimacy. New thoughts flooded her, visions of their future as husband and wife and all that that entailed . . .

Elizabeth felt slightly sick. She asked if they might return to the house which he immediately agreed to. 

The treck back to Longbourne was done in silence. She hated the sudden tension that had sprung up between them, especially after the last weeks of ease and friendliness, but her shyness prevented her from speaking. Her thoughts kept skipping back to the kiss, and how pleasant it had felt, being pressed against him like that. How she wished to know how to tell him these things! For it was apparent that he was unsure how to interpret her sudden silence. Did he think that she was angry with him? Or worse, Elizabeth thought, did he believe that she had not enjoyed the encounter? That was enough to force her into action. 

“Mr Darcy,” she said, pausing their walk. They were nearly to the house, but the last bend in the road concealed it from them. He turned to look down at her, his expression guarded. “Forgive me. I feel as if I have made you think that your advances have been unwelcome. Believe me, they were not. It’s just that you took me a little by surprise, is all.” Overcome by nervousness, Elizabeth ducked her head and fell quiet again, but not before she saw that some of his reserve had fallen away. 

“I am glad to hear that,” he replied. “Indeed, you had me concerned. I believed you thought me too forward.” 

Elizabeth laughed a little. “In only a few weeks we will be man and wife. I think we can afford to be a little forward.” 

Mr Darcy contemplated her for a moment. “I enjoyed it, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth flushed again. Even after all this time she was not entirely used to his forthrightness. “I liked it, too.” 

“Could we, or am I too bold to ask if I could have one more, before we go in to see your family?” 

Though still a little flustered, this request did not catch her off guard nearly as much as the first. She nodded. 

This second kiss was still tentative, but not quite as much as earlier. This time Mr Darcy had his hand on her waist, drawing her close to him. Elizabeth placed her hands between them, against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his waistcoat. His lips brushed against her own, barely touching them before pressing down decidedly, kissing her in earnest. Without the shock inspired by his first kiss, Elizabeth was able to feel other emotions as they stood there, hidden in the shadows, caught up in each other’s embrace. Her blood began to swirl in new patterns, igniting in her yet another way to desire him. As his lips explored hers and his hand pressed her even closer, molding her into his shape, she had a sudden vision of the two of them together. They were in some unknown bedroom at Pemberley, their clothing on the floor and their bodies tumbling between soft linen bedclothes, playing their roles in the divine act that men and women had performed since Creation. The image emboldened her and she rose up on her toes, throwing herself into the kiss. This seemed to please him and he dropped the horse’s reigns and brought his other hand up, curling it behind her neck. In the brief instances when their lips parted he whispered her name, causing her to tremble. 

At last they drew apart, catching their breath. He leaned his forehead against hers and chuckled. “Where’d you learn to kiss like that, Miss Bennet?”

“From you, not half an hour ago. Don’t you remember?”

“Surely I haven’t been the only man you’ve ever kissed? You are as skilled as Venus herself.” 

“Then I must be a natural,” she said archly. “Because no one has ever kissed me but you.” 

He grinned and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. She wondered if he intended to kiss her again.

But his hand dropped to his side and he turned to retrieve his horse. “We’d better get you inside before your parents get suspicious,” he told her. 

 

The gentlemen stayed for a few hours after dinner and then took their leave. Darcy never showed any sign about what had passed between them that afternoon, and Elizabeth tried to keep her composure, though she was certain that her every expression must betray them.

Finally, after the household had gone to bed, she crept into Jane’s bedroom to speak to her. 

Her sister smiled at her when she entered, her countenance filled with the same glow that surrounded her ever since Mr Bingley had proposed. 

Elizabeth smiled, and felt herself more at ease than she had been since Mr Darcy had first kissed her. But even now, her mind was still weighing heavy. 

“Jane,” she asked. “Have you given much thought to what must come after the wedding?” 

Jane glanced up at her. “What do you mean?”

Elizabeth turned away from her and began to pace up and down the room. “I mean, have you given any thought to the wedding night? About what you are going to do?”

Poor Jane seemed at a loss. She turned brilliant pink and began plucking at the edge of her coverlet. “I suppose I will do what all married people do on their wedding nights, Lizzy.”

“But how?” Elizabeth wondered, flouncing down on the bed beside her sister. “In what way does one go about it? It seems so awkward. Our mother has done nothing to prepare us for what is coming—except for that brief explanation she shared the first time we bled—and it seems unlikely that she will recount it to us now.”

“I’m certain that when the time comes, it will all work out. And our husbands will surely understand it a bit better than we do, they’ll guide us.” 

“But I don’t want to look the fool on my wedding night. I don’t want to stand there completely naked—”

“Lizzy, really—”

“And not know how to do something that should be so natural! I don’t want him to think I’m some fainthearted primrose who doesn’t know what goes on in the marriage bed.” Elizabeth sank back against the pillows, her mind wilting beneath the idea. “I don’t want him to be disappointed with me,” she murmured. 

“I’m sure that won’t be the case.”

Elizabeth sighed. Jane was obviously ill at ease discussing such a personal matter, but she had no one else to turn to. She might have gone so far as to write her aunt Gardiner, but such a conversation written out on paper would be too mortifying to send. Appealing to her mother was out of the question, as was Charlotte. Her mother would no doubt shy away from the inquiry, or if not, only give the same half-formed ideas that she had given when she’d first discussed it with Elizabeth all those years ago. As for Charlotte, Elizabeth would much rather suffer through her present uncertainty than experience a recount of Charlotte’s marital relations. 

“If you are so distressed about it, why not ask Mr Darcy himself?” Jane asked. 

Elizabeth turned to her in amazement. “And shock him with my brazen familiarity?”

Jane laughed. “Oh, Lizzy, don’t be silly. You are engaged to him, it would hardly be wrong to discuss your future together.”

Elizabeth pushed herself upright, astounded. “Jane, I couldn’t approach him with something like this! It'd be so improper. He’d be appalled.”

“I wasn’t appalled when Mr Bingley mentioned it,” Jane said, looking away. 

Elizabeth stared.

“He made some passing remark about it once when we were alone,” Jane explained, still avoiding Elizabeth’s look. “I was startled, but not affronted. How could I be? I am to be his wife after all. Why should we shy away from a subject that is to be open between us once we are married?”

“Because you are not married now!” Elizabeth cried, too surprised to be polite. Seeing Jane’s abashed look she tried to regain some of her composure. “Forgive me Jane, I do not mean to offend you, truly. Perhaps you are right and there is allowed between engaged people more leniency than between people who are not so. It just . . . I cannot trust that Mr Darcy’s and my situation could be the same as yours. He has such a strong sense of propriety that I am afraid that if I should ever broach the subject with him he would think less of me. Oh Jane, I have spent so long desiring his esteem that I cannot risk losing him now. What if he should think of me as some sort of loose woman? That maybe Lydia and I are closer to each other than he had previously thought?” 

“Don’t think such things, dearest Lizzy. Mr Darcy is not so cruel as that. He went out of his way to secure Lydia’s marriage after you had scorned his love. Do you think that you could do anything to drive him away now?”

Elizabeth looked away, overcome. What Jane said was true, but she couldn’t possibly understand what regard Elizabeth held toward Mr Darcy. And though her opinion of him had changed so much since their acquaintance began, Elizabeth suspected that the years of ingrained propriety still had a hold on him and he would be shocked if she mentioned physical intercourse, no matter how passionate their kisses had been. No, Elizabeth couldn’t imagine bringing up the subject before they’d said their wedding vows. 

 

“You seem preoccupied today.”

Elizabeth glanced up and saw that Mr Darcy was watching her curiously. They had been strolling through the shrubbery for some time and Elizabeth had to try and pay attention to the conversation. She kept thinking about the kisses they’d shared yesterday and her conversation with Jane. 

“Oh, forgive me, I suppose I’m just a little tired.”

“Would you like to return to the house?”

“No, I’ll be all right, thank you.” 

They continued on for a little bit, talking about this and that. Elizabeth tried to focus on what was being said, but she was often distracted with looking at his profile, her stomach twisting with admiration and alarm. She loved him so much, but her former admiration for his fine figure was tainted by her nervousness. What would he think of her, when they were finally together? She was not plain, she knew that, but she’d never possessed Jane’s sort of beauty. She was taller than Jane, her curves smaller, her features longer. Would he find her mediocre? He was used to looking at very fine women. She recalled his ridiculous standards for an accomplished woman. It had been laughable when she’d first heard it, and she still thought it too steep to require of any human creature, but she also knew that she fell short of it. She imagined his expression when he first saw her standing bare before him, his discerning eyes evaluating her body, tracing its faults. 

She shook her head. This was ridiculous. Mr Darcy loved her. He’d proven it time and again. For heaven’s sake, he’d asked to marry her not once, but twice! And the second time after her family’s reputation had been nearly ruined by her sister’s infamy. He was the most deserving man she’d ever met and he would do justice by her. 

And yet, the tiny voice in the back of her mind refused to be silenced. 

“Elizabeth?”

She glanced up at him, chagrined to have been caught daydreaming again. “Yes?”

“Are you certain you are well? Look, here is a seat, let’s rest for a bit.” 

“Truly, there is no need, I am quite well.” 

“Just for a few minutes, then we can resume our walk.” 

She laughed at him, attempting to return to her good humor, but allowed him to steer her toward the bench. They sat down together, hidden from view by the shrubbery and her parasol. 

“You seem out of spirits today,” he told her, eyeing her quizzically. 

She smiled a little, knowing she’d been found out. “I’m all right, truly. It is just that . . . Well I have been thinking about the future.”

Darcy’s face became a little pale. “The future?” He cleared his throat. “Are you having second thoughts?” he wondered quietly.

Elizabeth started. “No! No, please do not be alarmed. I am not going back on my promise.” She reached out and touched his arm, hating that she had given him a moment of grief. “It’s simply been dawning on me since yesterday how different my life will be once we are married. There are going to be so many . . . changes.” 

“They’ll be changes for the better though, I hope,” said Darcy, smiling. 

“Yes, I know. It’s just that it’s all happening so quickly and I don’t think I’m quite prepared enough for some of them.” 

“Which ones are you so uncertain of, in particular?” 

Elizabeth bit her lip and dropped her gaze, spinning her parasol in her discomfort. Oh, it would have been better had she not mentioned anything! 

“Elizabeth?”

“None in particular,” she mumbled. “It’s more of a general feeling.” She felt his fingers on her, tucking under her chin and turning her face back toward him. His expression was pained.

“Something’s happened. You haven’t been quite yourself since I kissed you yesterday afternoon. Please, ease my mind and tell me what’s the matter. How have I offended you?”

“You could never offend me, Mr Darcy.” 

He laughed outright at that, startling her. “You mustn’t tell such lies,” he said, still smiling. “I have offended you more often than I care to consider.”

“That was before,” she argued. “Back when I didn’t know you as I do now.”

“Back when my actions were more in tune to offend, you mean?” 

She smiled. They were slowly changing back into how they had formerly acted, as friends and lovers, no awkwardness between them. She felt herself slowly begin to relax. “Perhaps you do have the capability of offending me, then, but you must not worry on that account. I long ago decided that I will never be offended by you again.” 

“That is reassuring indeed, though I will still strive to be worthy of your good opinion. Now, then, tell me what it is that troubles you so, if I haven’t offended you.” 

Elizabeth appraised him, saw the tenderness in his expression and warmed to the idea that she was the one it was meant for. Perhaps Jane had been right and she was within her rights to discuss their post-nuptial relations with him. 

“I’m nervous about our wedding night,” she told him, meeting his gaze, amazed at her own audacity.

That Mr Darcy was surprised by the turn of the conversation was apparent, but none of the haughtiness or dismay that she had expected appeared. There was no severity in his expression, only interest. 

“What exactly are you concerned about?” he asked.

Elizabeth felt her cheeks flood with heat at his unexpected question. “I—well, that is, I don’t really know what to expect.” Her voice trailed off until the last word was barely more than a whisper. Mr Darcy was looking at her intently, seeming to hang upon her every word and it made her flustered. 

“You mean you don’t know what goes on between a husband and wife?” he asked.

“No! I mean, I know what is supposed to happen. I just . . .” Elizabeth waved her hand in the air, not having any idea how to proceed. How could she possibly explain that what she was afraid of wasn’t the act itself, but the knowledge that it would be acted out between herself and Mr Darcy? That they would be so close together, their bodies joining and she didn’t know what was expected of her? How was one supposed to act in such an intimate moment? She was afraid to disappoint him, afraid that he would think she was inadequate. “I don’t know how to go about it, is all. I’m afraid that I’ll do it wrong.” 

Darcy evaluated her for a moment, his fingers still under her chin, tipping her face up toward his. Then he bent forward and kissed her, first on one cheek, then the other, then up to her forehead, then her nose before finally pausing close to her lips. “Elizabeth Bennet,” he murmured. She felt the air stir against her lips when he spoke. “I have desired you from nearly the moment I laid eyes on you. Know this—that when the time comes for us to be married in truth there is no possible way for you to be anything less than perfect to me.” 

Elizabeth was going to protest, but before she could he’d covered her lips with his own and her arguments were crushed beneath them.


	2. Caresses and Consumation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments are life.

The day came. Her father kissed her cheek at the altar, his eyes shining a little too brightly. The hand that received hers was warm, the fingers winding securely through her own. The clergyman’s voice filled the church, but she barely heard it, all of her attention on the tall figure standing beside her. She repeated the vows, not knowing what she said and the rings were exchanged. As he slid the slender gold band down around her knuckle she noticed that his hand was trembling almost imperceptibly. 

They were announced man and wife. Gone was Elizabeth Bennet and in her place Elizabeth Darcy stood, gazing out at the crowd of familiar faces. Her new husband led her down the aisle, keeping a tight hold of her so that they wouldn’t be separated by the crowd of well wishers. Hugs and kisses came from all directions but through it all Elizabeth clutched his arm, not able to bear being torn from his side. 

They raced out the church door amidst clouds of rice and flowers and ran to the carriage, Mr Darcy helping her inside. The door closed behind them, shutting out the cheering crowd. With a snap of the reigns they were off, departing the church, Longbourn and Hertfordshire and turning their steps to London. 

Elizabeth sank back against the seat, her spirits soaring. Mr Darcy sat pressed up against her side, their fingers intertwined. 

“I am so immeasurably happy,” she breathed. 

Mr Darcy only smiled and leaned down to kiss her. She returned it, her hand coming up to cup his face. They’d spent a great deal of time kissing since that first evening, each time becoming a little better at it, their desire increasing as their reservations fell away. Now they kissed each other hungrily, longing for more. When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Mr Darcy grinned at her. 

“You look beautiful, Mrs Darcy,” he said. 

“I suppose that’s my name now, isn’t it?” she answered, “I’ve become an old married woman.” 

He smiled. “Do you prefer Elizabeth?” 

“I like Mrs Darcy just as well. Choose whichever you like, I don’t mind. It’s not very fair though, that I have a new name and you don’t.”

“You can always call me by my Christian name. Though no one has called me Fitzwilliam since my father died.” 

“That’s too much of a change for me. I think Darcy will suit me better, just Darcy.” 

“As you like . . . Mrs Darcy.” He grinned as he pronounced her new name. “Oh, you have no idea how much it pleases me to call you that!” He lunged toward her and attacked her with kisses, making her squeal and thrash.

“Darcy! Darcy, really! I’ve never seen you act this way!” she laughed aloud, only to have it cut short when he kissed her again. 

“You’ve never married me before,” he answered breathlessly, “Do so again tomorrow and you’ll get the same treatment.” He ducked his head lower, beginning to kiss the side of of her neck. This was new. Elizabeth leaned her head back, her fingers twining in the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him to her. He continued kissing her, pressing his lips against her tender skin again and again, trailing them up and down her throat. Elizabeth’s skin grew warm and her breath came in little gasps. 

Darcy raised his hand and combed his fingers down through her hair, tracing the shape of her ear, the corner of her jaw, the sweep of her throat. Elizabeth closed her eyes and followed his hand with her mind as it drifted across her overheated skin. At the base of her throat it turned onto her shoulder until it found the neckline of her wedding dress and began following the edge of it, meandering across her breast. He’d paused his kissing to watch as his fingers skimmed along the edge of the cloth, dipping just inside the fabric and exploring the soft flesh beneath. 

“Elizabeth?” murmured Darcy. 

“Yes?” 

“Is this all right?” 

Swallowing hard, Elizabeth nodded. The hand had reached the center of her bodice, one finger resting in the cleft between her breasts. 

“Let me know if you become uncomfortable,” he said. “And I’ll stop.” 

She turned toward him. He was looking at her earnestly. She smiled at him, her heart fluttering in her chest. “You don’t need to worry about me, Darcy.” 

A little of the anxiety left his expression. He leaned in and kissed her, his hand trapped between their bodies. His tongue traced along her lips, and she parted them, allowing him in. As their kiss deepened, his other arm wound around her waist, pulling her against him, while the hand on her chest moved to cup her breast more securely. She made a pleased sound and pressed herself against his hand, desirely that he take more of her. He gently squeezed her breast, causing her to sigh against his lips. 

“You are so beautiful,” he told her. 

She responded by kissing him, winding her arms around his neck and drawing herself up until she was on her knees on the seat, her hands combing through his soft hair, her breasts directly in his line of vision. She was astonished at her own boldness, and so was he, though it seemed to please him. Both of his hands came up to caress her breasts, pushing them upwards until they swelled above her neckline, nestling there like twin doves. He paused to look down at them, running his thumbs across gentle curves. 

“Perfect,” he murmured. 

Elizabeth’s blood was thrumming through her veins. This was all so exciting that she almost forgot to be nervous. She felt half wild, and wanted to keep going. 

The carriage hit a rut in the road, causing her to topple forward onto him. They laughed breathlessly, their bodies alive with sensation at this unexpected development. He glanced up at her, his eyes darting between her face and her bosom, not seeming to know where to look. Placing his hands on her waist, he turned her until she was perched on his lap, his arms around her. 

“There you are,” he told her. “Better? We don’t want you falling off the seat.” 

“Mmmm.” She hooked her arms around his neck. “Yes, this is much better.” She kissed him, her hands framing his face. As much as she hated to admit it, his lap wasn’t very comfortable. It was hard and there was something right underneath her . . . Elizabeth blushed crimson when she realized what that strange bulge must be. She squirmed a little, unsure if she should move away from it or not. Darcy made a low sound when she did that, his lips pausing under hers. 

Elizabeth froze and began to apologize but was cut short when he adjusted her, pulling her tighter against him, right over that spot. It pressed up against her backside, solid and larger than she would have imagined one to be. 

“Are you comfortable?” she asked, touching his cheek with the back of her knuckles. 

He smiled at her. His eyes were a little wild and his hair was mussed from her fingers raking through it. Elizabeth though he had never looked half so well. 

“I’ve never been more comfortable in my life.”

 

 

 

 

 

It is not the purpose of this fanfiction to describe the scenery that the newlyweds passed on their way to London, nor the fine townhouses that arose when they arrived. For their part, Mr and Mrs Darcy took no notice of either of these. The curtains were drawn until they rolled up to the door of Mr Darcy’s house, and stayed drawn for a few minutes after while the lovers made themselves presentable again. 

The household met their master and new mistress in the foyer. The couple greeted them, and Mrs Darcy felt a little trepidation by how many there were. 

“If you please, ma’am,” said the housekeeper, a Mrs Taylor. “I’ll be attending you to dress for dinner, and I’ve got a lass, Tess, who’ll do well as a maid for you, until you’ve had a chance to find a proper lady’s maid.” 

Elizabeth thanked her and tried her best not to feel awkward. Mrs Taylor seemed like a good sort of person, and her tone as she said this hardly bordered on reproach, but still Elizabeth wondered if she looked down on her for not having a lady’s maid already. 

Before she could reflect on it too much, Mr Darcy began leading her up the stairs, his enthusiasm undimmed since their time in the carriage. 

“We should probably wait until after dinner before we do much more,” he told her. “No matter how averse I am to letting you go.”

Elizabeth nodded. “That’d be the proper thing to do, I suppose. No need to give the servants reason to talk.” 

Darcy scoffed at that. “I’m not concerned about the servants. It’s just that once I get you into my chamber, I’ll be in no hurry to release you again, and it’d be better if you had something to eat before tomorrow morning.” 

After everything that had passed in the carriage, Elizabeth wasn’t as amazed at this speech as she might have been earlier in their relationship, but it still caused her to shake her head in amusement. 

Darcy led her to a door in the hallway. It had been left ajar and Elizabeth looked in at the pretty blue wallpaper and large, comfortable looking bed. 

Darcy took her hand and kissed it, his eyes never leaving her own. “I’d better leave you now. Taylor will be up shortly, I imagine, to help you dress.” 

“I’ll see you at dinner,” she replied. “Though it pains me to part from you.”

He chuckled. “I know, my darling. But we’ll be seeing each other soon enough.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek before departing down the hall. 

Five minutes passed before Mrs Taylor arrived. Elizabeth had been wandering up and down her new bedchamber, looking out the windows and through the drawers in the dressing table, pleased with all that she saw. 

“Does the place suit you, madam?” asked the housekeeper. 

“Very much. It is a lovely room.”

“That’s good to hear, madam. The master spent a great deal of time on improvements to it before your arrival.” 

Elizabeth smiled at that. Of course he did, she thought. His generosity was endless. 

Mrs Taylor was a friendly, respectable woman, who enjoyed talking and didn’t need much of a correspondent, which was good for Elizabeth, whose mind kept wandering back to the dimly lit carriage and her husband’s roaming hands. Her cheeks flushed again and again but this time with longing instead of embarrassment. There had been little embarrassment in that carriage, they had been much too excited. 

“Will that be all for you this evening, ma’am?” Mrs Taylor asked. 

Elizabeth shook herself out of her daydream and thanked the housekeeper. Once the older woman had left, Elizabeth resumed her perusal of her face in the mirror. She was a little surprised by her reflection. There was no alteration in her appearance; she did not seem any older or wiser than she had that morning. She smiled at her own foolishness in presuming that she would have felt a difference. Marriage was a change of situation, not self.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Elizabeth had little appetite, and spent most of the meal trying not to fidget. Darcy was also quieter than usual, though he smiled at her often and occasionally tried to engage her in conversation. 

“I missed you,” Elizabeth told him after the servants had gone away.

“I shouldn’t have left you,” he replied. “We could have had dinner brought in to us.” 

Elizabeth laughed a little. “I’d like to upset your household as little as possible by my presence, Mr. Darcy. I’m sure the staff would little appreciate a delayed dinner brought all the way up to your quarters.” 

“As much as I hate to be an inconvenience to anyone, your happiness is of a higher priority to me than their schedules.” 

After another three or four minutes of silence, Darcy glanced up at her. “Are you finished, Mrs Darcy?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, placing her silverware aside. 

“All right,” he replied, standing abruptly and striding around the table to her. 

Elizabeth was too surprised to even protest as he bent to scoop her up in his arms, heaving her aloft. 

“Darcy?” she cried as he marched towards the door. “What are you doing?”

“Being the happiest of men,” he replied, as if it should be obvious. “Reach down and get the handle will you?”

Elizabeth laughed heartily and did so, twisting the knob and pushing the door open for them. 

The couple swept down the hallway, Elizabeth laughing all the way, her arms wrapped securely around his neck. 

“You’re very strong,” she told him as he carried her up the stairs. 

He scoffed. “You weigh practically nothing.”

She had to open the bedroom door for them as well. and then they burst into his bedchamber, Darcy kicking the door closed behind then. 

Then he tossed her on the bed, making her squeal. 

“I’ve never seen you act this way,” she huffed. It was true, but she was enjoying it. There was no ceremony, no awkwardness, just giddiness and excitement. 

Mr Darcy fell onto the bed beside her, “I’ve never had permission to,” he replied, leaning in to kiss her mouth. 

She responded eagerly, the slight uneasiness of before disappearing after their romp. His enthusiasm was contagious. Her fingers raked themselves through his hair. 

After a few moments Darcy pulled away from the kiss. “I love you, Elizabeth Darcy,” he told her. 

She smiled at him. “And I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy.” 

“Are you still afraid of this?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, not really,” she wriggled closer to him. “How could I be, when you have been so good to me?” She took his hand, which had been caressing her cheek and kissed it. It skimmed across her lips and caught her chin, tilting it up.

“You are a perfect creature, Elizabeth.” He kissed her again, rising up a little as he did so, maneuvering over her until he was pressing her down into the coverlet. His hand skimmed along the arm that wound behind his neck, following the shape of her shoulder, the swell of her ribs, the dip of her waist, and finally coming to rest at her hip.

Meanwhile, his lips had departed her own to wind downwards, covering her jaw with feather-light kisses before grazing down her throat, hovering for just a moment above her pulse. 

Elizabeth reached her hands up and rested them on his waistcoat, slipping them down the soft fabric until her fingers found the first hard button. She unfastened it, feeling it slip back through the fabric and vanish before moving on to the next. Darcy’s breathing quickened as he felt her undressing him, and his hand bunched in the fabric at her waist, drawing it up. 

They worked without speaking, smiling at each other, their breathing loud in the quiet chamber. They took their time, working steadily, but not rushing, never rushing. One button after another was freed from his waistcoat, inch by inch her skirt was brought up toward her knees until the bottom edge of her chemise became visible. He didn’t draw up the chemise, though, not yet. There would be time for that. They had the rest of the night, the rest of their lives, for that. 

Elizabeth ran out of buttons and parted the flaps of his waistcoat, pushing them back. He shrugged it off and tossed it aside before shifting her dress further up. She pushed herself up off the bed so he could get it past her hips, then sat up. Darcy stood beside the bed and helped her pull it over her head. The sound of the stiff fabric murmuring against cloth and skin filled the room like sweet music. Within moments the dress was gone, tossed atop the waistcoat. The lovers remained where they were, Darcy standing between her knees while she sat looking up at him, her face coming to the middle of his chest. 

“I’m more undressed than you are,” she murmured. 

“You are,” he quietly agreed. He reached up, caught the end of his cravat and began unwinding it, the silk slithering against itself as it loosened. Within moments his throat was freed and he discarded the tie with a flick of his wrist. “Does that level the playing field a little?” 

“A little.” 

Darcy placed his hand on her shoulder and pressed her back. Elizabeth complied, moving to lie against the pillows. He lowered himself over her, until their chests were against each other, her breasts heaving beneath him. 

“You marvelous girl,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. His fingers stroked her cheek, a wisp of hair catching between them, softer than the first breath of spring. “I can’t even believe you’re real.” 

Elizabeth smiled at him. “I’m real enough.” She nuzzled her face against his, rubbing their noses playfully. “Where did all your impatience fly off to? Five minutes ago you were a man driven by lust, and now here we both are, still clothed and virginal.” Elizabeth laughed, but in truth there little to mock. Things were progressing slowly, but there was a deliciousness to it. Every movement was purposeful, every touch laden with the design to please.

Darcy smiled a little and there was something in his gaze that made Elizabeth burn. “Believe you me, Mrs Darcy,” he whispered. “I am still very much a man driven by lust.” He kissed her, his lips unhurried, lazy almost. Oddly enough, that only seemed to inflame her more. She had time to feel every sensation of the kiss, every tiny, lingering movement. In the brief moments when their lips were separated, he spoke, his words kindling her passion. “I have wanted you,” he murmured, “Here. In my bed. For so long. It’s taking all of my strength not to damn everything and just shove myself into you here and now.” 

She couldn’t help the gasp that his word elicited, but she cursed herself afterwards. He pulled back a little, the tiniest gap that felt like a canyon after how close they had been. He looked at her, his gaze serious. “You don’t have to be afraid, my dearest girl. I’m not going to do that.”

“I’m not afraid.” It was true. She hadn’t cried out in trepidation, only excitement at the idea of him laying claim to her like that. It thrilled her to think of him so lost to everything but desire for her. She was learning so much. The Mr Darcy she had known, that pinnacle of politeness and civility in society, was just one aspect of her new husband. But beneath that man was another, a carnal being who wanted nothing more than to find pleasure in her. 

“All the same, I’m not going to do anything of the sort.” He turned his face to the side, trailing his nose across her cheek down to her ear. He kissed her there, first in the hollow beneath, then her earlobe, then nibbling up around the shell of of her ear, the strange sensation making Elizabeth shiver. The soft sounds of his kisses were amplified a hundred times over, lusciously sensual. “Please turn over,” he murmured, the words slipping down the cup of her ear like drops of wine. She obeyed, curious as to what he meant by it. 

Once she was on her stomach, he leaned over her, touching the nape of her neck with his fingers, skimming them down between her shoulder blades, raising gooseflesh along her arms. He paused at her stays, his fingers plucking at the taut string. He followed it with one finger, going back and forth as it criss-crossed the middle of her back. Elizabeth was transfixed, her nerves stretching as taut as the cord. Her world had shrunken to his finger on her, to the quiet sound of his breathing—too rapid—and the warmth of his body reclining against her own. Darcy reached the bottom of her stays and slowly pulled the cord loose. Within moments the stays were tossed onto the growing pile of clothing. 

Every hair on Elizabeth’s body was standing on end. There was now nothing separating her from him but her stockings and chemise, that short smock lying across her body as thin as paper. She waited for his hands to dip beneath it and remove the last shred of her modesty, but instead she felt him shift away from her and venture down toward her feet. He clambered off the end of the bed and turned toward her, his hands on either side of her legs. She looked back at him curiously. 

He grinned at her and reached up to her right leg, right above her knee, and snagged the garter in the crook of his finger before sliding it down. A moment later the stocking followed, inch by inch of her leg exposed to the cool air. He repeated the procedure with her left leg. After he was done, he surveyed her with hands on his hips, looking quite pleased with himself. 

“You look very well like this, Lizzy.” 

She squirmed a little, laughing. “You’ve never called me Lizzy before.” 

“I’d never seen your legs before. There’s a first time for everything.” 

She huffed and turned over onto her back, careful that her chemise didn’t ride up. “Its not fair that you can have so many names for me while you just have to be Darcy,” she told him again.

He shrugged. “You have a prettier name than I do.” He put his knee up on the bed. “Besides,” he continued , tucking his hands under her thighs, “I like it when you call me Darcy.”   
Before she could answer he flipped her over again, the motion so quick that her thin cotton chemise flew up, exposing her bottom for just a moment before setting again. Elizabeth blushed crimson and hurriedly yanked it back down over her thighs. She glanced at Darcy who was poised beside her, his attention directed to the hands clutching her wayward chemise. After a few long moments, when neither of them said anything—Elizabeth too mortified, Darcy too heated—he reached down toward her feet again and squeezed her ankle, rubbing his thumb in slow circles while he worked his way up her leg, massaging her calf. He ducked his head and blazed a trail of kisses up her leg, leading the way for his fingers. 

Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered closed as she focused on his caresses, her entire existence bound to the warm mouth that explored her body. She jumped when he reached the back of her knee, amazed by how sensitive it was. Noticing her reaction, he lingered there, placing slow, heated kisses against her skin. His fingers continued their journey, dipping down into the valley between her thighs. Her body was wound as tightly as a spring bud, her center trembling in anticipation, ready for the bliss of summer daylight. 

Darcy continued on his way, marking a path up the back of her thigh, his breath steaming against her creamy skin. He paused when he reached the hem of her chemise. His fingers were already beneath it, caught between the soft walls of her inner thighs, so close to her sex that his hand was warmed by the heat. Taking his free hand, he pushed up the soft fabric, revealing the tempting swell of her bum. Darcy squeezed his eyes shut, and inhaled deeply through his nose. This was too much. His arousal was crushed against the constraints of his breeches, begging for attention. Fantasies raced through his mind. He imagined seizing Elizabeth by the hips, hauling her up onto her knees and having his way with her, watching her plump little arse quiver with every thrust. Oh God. 

Darcy shook himself out of the fantasy. Now was not the time for anything like that. Elizabeth had been so anxious about their union, he wasn’t going to risk her comfort for his own wishes. Besides, he consoled himself, there would be plenty of time for that later on. 

He pushed the thin material further up her body, over her bottom and up her back, his hands skimming along her waist, feeling the smooth skin glide under his fingers, and the warm curves of her breasts. Elizabeth was trembling, he could feel her shaking beneath his hands. But she helped him pull the chemise up over her head. 

Her body was laid out beneath him now, dimpling the coverlet beneath her, an alabaster Venus. Darcy raked his gaze across her from head to toe, unable to believe his good fortune. She peeped at him, her head nestled in her folded arms. 

“Mr Darcy?” she asked, her voice higher pitched than usual. 

He met her gaze. “I am the luckiest man in the entire world,” he said. 

She smiled, her cheeks turning faintly pink. “I’m glad you are happy.” 

“I’m not certain that ‘happy’ begins to describe what I am.” He grabbed the bottom edge of his shirt and yanked it over his head, then began fumbling with the buttons of his trousers. He’d wanted to savor undressing her, but now his impatience roared. Sick of resisting, he gave in, desiring nothing more than to feel Elizabeth wrapped around him. 

She watching him undress, her pulse pounding in her temples. She was such an odd mix of arousal and nerves that she barely knew which she felt more. She was completely naked, and in front of Mr Darcy of all people. Her skin prickled and she longed to climb beneath the blankets to cover herself. But she resisted and allowed him to look at her body, the experience strangely thrilling. His tall frame towered over her as he sat up on his knees and tugged his shirt over his head. There was dark hair on his chest with a stripe of it leading down his stomach and into his trousers. She felt a sudden spike of arousal as she followed it with her eyes, imagining where it led. Then she saw his hands begin unfastening the buttons of his trousers and felt a little trepidation. She bit her lip as she watched him push the fabric down and kick it away, revealing white drawers fastened with a drawstring, the last bit of clothing separating them. 

He placed his hand on her side and gently shifted her, indicating for her to turn over. She did, her skin tingling as he stared at her naked torso, his eyes darting between her bare breasts and the triangle of dark curls between her legs. He settled over her, his hand coming up to cup one of her breasts. He leaned down and kissed her, his lips urgent, his tongue stealing along her lips, desiring entry. She parted them for him, moaning a little when he deepened the kiss, his hand fondling her almost roughly. When he leaned into her she felt something hard against her thigh and it made her sex begin to ache. 

Seeming to know how she was feeling, Darcy’s hand left her breast and slid between her legs, his fingers probing the source of warmth at the juncture of her thighs. Elizabeth cried out at the onslaught of sensation, her body quaking as he rubbed her center. Whatever traces of embarrassment she had felt before this were banished beneath his fingers. She no longer cared what he thought of her, as long as he continued touching her like this. 

Darcy groaned against her ear, barely noticeable above her mewling. “God, you’re already wet.” 

Elizabeth bit her lip, her eyes squeezed shut. It was true, she could feel the slickness on her thighs, hear it as his fingers swirled around her. 

She felt him adjust himself, the hand that wasn’t touching her going down to loosen the drawstring. Then he was rolling on top of her, his body covering her own, pushing her legs apart. She looked up at him, a little bereft that he’d taken his fingers away. But the look on his face gave her pause. His hair was rumpled, his eyes wild. He’d pushed his undergarment down past his hips, too impatient to toss them aside like the rest of their clothing. His hand was around himself, but she could see some of it, the dark, rounded head disappearing and reappearing as he slowly stroked it. He leaned in closer and began sliding the tip of it against her sex, making her squirm and moan. He looked down at himself slipping against her, his expression almost pained. Then he stopped moving, positioning himself right at her entrance. 

She stilled, breathless and exhilarated as she watched him slowly push forward, his hips tilting toward her. Then there was a stab of discomfort. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed and gritted her teeth. She fought off the urge to clamp her legs shut and plead for him to stop. She’d known it would be painful, her mother had prepared her for that much at least. 

“Are you all right?” 

She squeezed her eyes tighter and pressed her lips into a hard line. She would not complain. 

“Elizabeth.” Some of the pressure receded. He was drawing out. 

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Elizabeth, look at me.” 

She opened her eyes, meeting his own as he hovered right above her. His face was serious. 

“You need to let me know if you’re hurting.”

“But, it’s supposed to hurt the first time,” she breathed. “I’ll be fine.” 

“It may hurt some,” he told her. “But there are things we can do. We’ll go slower.” He stroked her hair, pushing it further back from her face. “Tell me if you’re in pain.”

“All right.” 

He pushed forward again, creeping along, regaining the ground he had lost when he’d pulled back. After awhile he reached a point where it hurt again and Elizabeth made a small, pained sound. He stopped instantly, his hands cupping her face and stroking her hair as he murmured sweet things to her, allowing her time to adjust. Once she’d gotten a little more used to the feeling he advanced again, slowly sheathing himself in her, his eyelids fluttering closed as he felt her walls clutching at him.

After what seemed like forever, he was fully in, his manhood throbbing inside her, stretching her out. Darcy was trembling, his arms and legs locked as he tried to resist the urge to move. Elizabeth cradled him in her arms, her legs curled around his waist, her face buried in the crook of his neck, waiting for the discomfort to recede. After several moments it did, reducing from a sharp, bitter pain to a dull ache. She sighed and her muscled relaxed a bit. She kissed him right above his pulse, feeling it surge beneath her lips. 

“Thank you,” she breathed against his warm skin. 

Darcy sighed and pulled back very slowly. He began to thrust, going painstakingly slow at first, wishing to cause her as little discomfort as possible. For him it was sweet torture. Her walls fit him like a glove, clenching every inch of him as he moved. “You’re so tight,” he whispered, his face half-buried in her hair. His fingers wound into her hair, gently tugging it as he fought to keep his body under control. 

Elizabeth closed her eyes and tilted her head back as she felt him slowly plunge in and out of her. She could feel his muscles bunching under his skin, feel the heat radiating off of him, feel his breath in her hair as he began to pant. The pain was definitely slacking off, replaced with excitement. It was thrilling, having him so close to her, their naked skin touching, his body deep inside her own, loving her from within. 

“You feel nice,” she murmured. 

Darcy groaned quietly and kissed her ear. He hoisted himself up onto his elbows and increased his pace a little, his restraint slipping. Elizabeth moaned, her eyes closing as she became lost in sensation. Their ragged breathing and the wet sound of their bodies coming together echoed around the room, making her blush even as it caused another round of moisture to pool inside her. There was something animalistic about coupling that delighted her. There was no room for politeness or reserve in the marriage bed. She admired her husband through hooded eyes as he looked between them, watching his cock lunge in and out of her. His skin was flushed, his eyes bright, his breathing coming in quick pants. He’s loving this, she thought to herself. The notion sent a bolt of pleasure through her, making her moan. 

Reaching down, Darcy gripped her hip, his fingers biting into her flesh as he snapped his hips against her. This new angle brought him down against the top of her slit, sending another bolt of sensation right through her core. She let out a little whine. 

Darcy groaned and brushed up against that spot again, making her head snap back. “Do you like it when I do that?” he wondered, grinding against her. 

Elizabeth melted beneath him, all of her thoughts disintegrating. “Yes,” she whispered, barely finding her voice through the pleasure. She tightened her arms and legs around him, pressing up against him as his body rubbed against that place, making her whimper. Her tendons seemed to be tightening, her body drawing taught as a bowstring. Her voice rose higher, echoing around the room and probably filling the corridor outside. She didn’t care. All that mattered was the man on top of her and the exquisite things he was doing to her body. 

It came all at once. One moment she was standing on the precipice and the next she was falling, a cloud of pleasure encompassing her, making buds burst and stars fall behind her eyelids. She cried out, her back arching off the bed and her hips bucking against his as she wildly tried to make the feeling last. Darcy groaned as he watched her climax, his thrusts becoming erratic. After several long moments Elizabeth wilted beneath him, her blood humming in her ears, her breathing shallow. She gazed up at him through half-closed eyes. “I love you so much,” she murmured. 

“Oh,” Darcy closed his eyes and grabbed her hips, ramming into her half a dozen more times before suddenly becoming completely still, his lips parting in a silent cry as he shuddered his release. Gasping, he thrust into her again, once, twice, thrice, before his entire body went limp. He slumped down on top of her, his face buried in the crook of her neck as he tried to regain his breath. After a few moments he chuckled. “Oh, that was good,” he said. 

Elizabeth giggled, her hands running over his back. She felt giddy, her blood still thrumming from her release. She kissed his neck and shoulder, every part of him that she could reach. “Yes it was.” She nuzzled his neck, burying her fingers in his hair. “It’s hard to believe I was so concerned about it.” 

He chuckled again, still sounding a little winded. “You had the right to be nervous. But I’m glad that you’ve realized your fears were unfounded.” He pushed himself up a little so that he could see her. “You were remarkable,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

She smiled and leaned up to kiss him. He returned it, their lips moving slowly, happily, the kiss of satiated lovers. After a moment she pulled back from him. 

“You know,” she said. “I think I’m going to enjoy being married to you.” 

Darcy laughed. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”


End file.
